Ramblings
by princess34marth
Summary: A collection of helsa one shots. I don't feel like making individuals stories for everything, so if isn't much more than Drabble, it will be posted here.
1. Mine

**ANGST ALERT! Short, sweet, sad. Oneshot (I MEAN IT I SWEAR). Modern AU, Helsa, Mature Language. The break up. Enjoy! Review! hugs and kisses - marth**

"That's mine."

"My bad, you're right." Hans dropped the clock onto the bed and moved on to the next item. This was a lot messier than he had imagined. Break ups were never easy, but Elsa was making it damn near impossible. Everything he touched was hers, and even if it wasn't, he didn't care. He just wanted to be out of her life. They had given it a good go, put their full effort into the relationship, but it just hadn't been enough. She never seemed to fully trust him, and he just wasn't a good enough man for her.

"This is yours, though." She tossed him the sweater that she had worn to bed every night for two years. He flinched; it seemed like she was using this as her last chance to inflict as much emotional scarring as she could. Hans sighed and shoved the worn sweater into his duffel bag. "And I'm keeping Olaf."

Hans felt his jaw clench. "Fine, he's yours." He would miss the sweet old dog they had rescued, but it if meant Elsa would be happier, he would just have to get over it.

"And this, I don't want this." Her voice had a bitter, angry tone as she threw a set of towels at him. There was a hair brush in there too, and when it struck him in the cheek, it stung.

"Come on, Elsa, act like a grown up. Just let me take my stuff and go."

Her eyes blazed with fury. "Oh, I'm the one that should act like a grown up? Me? I'm the one that should be mature, when you've never been anything but immature. You never clean, you never do anything to help me around the house, you always insult me like a fifth grader, you lie to me, you-"

"Elsa!" Hans nearly shouted. "There's no point in rehashing this. Shut up and let me go." He knew that the longer he stayed, the harder this would be. As angry as she made him, he still loved her and didn't want her to agonize over him for too long like he knew she would.

"No, you shut up! You want to leave so badly, I'll help you pack!" she was frantic now, and began tossing everything she could reach. "Your stupid shoes, your ugly sports coat, this fucking awful lamp that your bitch mother bought us, just take it!" The lamp crashed to the floor as she pushed it off the night stand, shattering the heavy stained glass shade that had colored their walls so many nights. She continued to rummage through the stuff on the floor, searching for more ammunition. "Just take your shit, Hans," she sobbed, "and get out of my fucking apartment."

"Elsa, stop, just calm down for a moment," Hans pleaded as he tried to climb over the debris to reach her.

"I won't calm down! I have every right to be mad as hell. You're breaking my heart, Hans. Did you even stop to think about me, about anyone other than yourself? Did you, Hans?" Her usually beautiful voice rose higher with every word, tears staining her cheeks and burning her lips. "Is that all you do, Hans? Lie? You lied to me, you lied to Anna, just," she pulled at her hair in frustration, then fumbled with a finger. "Here, this is yours, take your goddamn ring Hans, it's yours too." She ripped the diamond band off of her finger and whipped it at him, where it bounced uselessly off of his chest.

Finally he made it over the war zone that was his side of the room and tried to take hold of her forearms. Elsa fought him desperately, eventually resorting to hitting and slapping anywhere she could reach. He felt something wet and warm smear his face, and he realized that her hands were bleeding from digging through the glass on the floor. "Fuck you, Hans! I gave you my heart, I gave you everything! I hate you! I hate you, you bastard." Her anger spent, the shaking woman knees buckled and she nearly collapsed.

Hans clutched her to his chest and tried to hide his own trembling. He lifted her up and laid on the bed with her, never letting her leave his arms for a moment. When she drifted off in her exhaustion, he wept into her hair.

…

Elsa felt like she had a hangover when she finally woke. There was no trace of the fight before. There was no trace of the man she loved, either. The entire room was cleaned, the lamp removed, her hands cleaned and bandaged. A glass of water with a bottle of ibuprofen rested on the nightstand, along with a folded note. Her diamond band was taped inside, and her tears began anew as she set the paper to the side.

_My heart is yours, too._


	2. Prisoner

**Prisoner, so fluffy that I think I have diabetes now. Helsa, modern AU, oneshot, major fluff. Written for the last day of Iceburns week. Enjoy! - marth**

It had been almost four days since the last time he had a decent night's sleep. His eyes drooped, his hair was dirty, his clothes stained and ragged. A meager ration of coffee and the prison guard's breakfast leftovers were all he had eaten that day, and it was approaching noon. Hans yearned for freedom, for sleep, for peace, for ibuprofen. The ache in his joints was constant, barreling to the forefront whenever he dared move against the rigid piece of furniture he was confined to. Tired eyelids sagged for a fraction of a second before the guard reappeared with a new prisoner.

"Daddddy! No sleeping, you can't sleep in jail!" Hans willed his eyes open and up; his four year old was currently practicing her mother's glare. He feigned a grimace and moved against the back of the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot. Hanna had recently learned "Cops and Robbers" at preschool, and of course it was her new favorite game and of course mommy and daddy were the bad, bad robbers and Hanna was the all powerful cop. He restrained a snigger as Elsa took a seat beside him and patiently waited for their daughter to tie her hands behind her back with one of daddy's ties. It didn't seem like the brightest idea to let her have real handcuffs, especially if both of them were in "jail".

"Okay. Momma and Daddy stay in jail, don't move or else you're gonna be in trouble." The strawberry blonde toddler zipped back around the couch, undoubtedly on her way to stop her criminal stuffed "aminals".

Elsa yawned and slumped against him. "Why can't she just watch tv on mute or something? I'd like to sleep in past six at least once this decade." Her long blonde hair was thrown up in a haphazard bun, and an old t-shirt of his nearly covered her sleep shorts entirely. Even in exhaustion, Hans was proud of having such a beautiful wife.

"Come on, now, that wouldn't be any fun. You can sleep when you're dead," he chuckled and stretched his back, attempting to relax his protesting muscles. He could hear Officer Hanna scolding her stuffed rabbit Harpy over the babbling of the tv.

"At least you got the rest of her cereal. I haven't eaten anything yet, I'm starved. Do you think she would notice if I escaped from our cell?" Elsa struggled against the silk tie around her wrists, but it held tight. "Geez, what on earth possessed you to teach her sailing knots? Hans, untie this."

The redhead smirked. "I think I like you better this way." He easily released himself from the jump rope that bound his own hands, then leaned in dangerously close. "Are you my prisoner now?" he whispered in her ear. A light kiss on the cheek was all he managed before she nearly headbutted him. "Ouch, what the hell, Elsa?"

Elsa's eyes grew cold and her lips drew into a thin line. "That was a love tap. If you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you back up and go get me food, Westergard."

His smirk widened into a full blown grin. Hans leaned in closer, enough that Elsa flailed and fell over with a muffled shriek. "If you want to have your breakfast, I suggest you try being a little nicer, Westergard." He straightened and peeked over the top of the couch; Hanna had disappeared, probably into their room to watch tv. A quick sprint to the kitchen, some rummaging in cupboards, and then he ran back to the living room.

"You couldn't get milk?" Elsa complained. All he had managed was a box of cocoa puffs.

"She was using the big girl potty and almost saw me. Not a very good cop if her prisoners are escaping." He shoveled a handful of cereal into his mouth and rejoiced; who really needed milk, anyways?

"Hans."

"Oh, sorry." He wiped his hands, then deftly released Elsa from her bonds. The cereal box was passed back and forth, and they munched in silence, grateful for the calm.

"So, what are you in for?" he asked her with a serious look, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

Elsa giggled. "Oh, you know. Enforcing bedtime since Daddy is too easily manipulated by pouty faces. You?"

Hans smiled and chewed his cereal thoughtfully. "Probably because I wouldn't let her have pudding for breakfast. Not that this is much better for you." He glanced at the nutrition information on box and frowned. "God, no wonder I'm getting a pudge. This is pure sugar."

His wife laughed louder now, and patted his stomach. "It's okay, I'll still love you, pudge and all." Hans tucked the cereal box under the couch so that Hanna wouldn't be too suspicious, then loosely threw the tie around Elsa's hands again, but this time in front of her. She helped to retie his jump rope, and they relaxed against the back of the couch, which was feeling much more comfortable now that they weren't starving.

"Maybe Anna will watch her next weekend, and we can sleep in for a day." Hans thought out loud.

"That sounds marvelous, and it's been a while since her and Sven have had a play date." Elsa wriggled a bit and extended her legs so that they wouldn't fall asleep. "I'll call her later, after we serve our time."

"I think we should go check on our prison guard, she's too quiet." Hans murmured. The parents stood, discarded their bonds, and dusted the cereal crumbs from their pajamas, then tiptoed down the hall and craned their necks around their bedroom door.

Hanna was passed out it the middle of their bed, surrounded by stuffed animals and clutching her favorite rabbit to her small chest. Elsa padded over to the king sized bed and crawled in beside her daughter, careful not to wake her. Hans turned off the tv and joined them, laying across from his wife with his precious daughter in between them. He kissed each of their foreheads, smoothed Hanna's hair, and smiled as he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Falling For You

**Falling for you – modern AU one shot. I'm glad to be back, everyone. Sorry I've been gone for so long. Hope you enjoy it. - marth**

Elsa sipped at her beer and lamented her inability to give up hope. Gretchen had mentioned going out for ladies night, maybe eating at that one not-too-dirty Mexican restaurant, grabbing some drinks and dancing. Well, she had mentioned it to Jessica, but Elsa had overheard. She realized now, sitting alone at the bar they had talked about, that she was _not supposed_ to have overheard. That she was unwanted, her company unneeded. As usual. Now she would have to home and explain to Anna why she was going to bed at nine pm instead of at a club, dancing her brains out. Her mind was made up to leave; she drained her beer but had yet to stand when someone took the barstool beside hers.

"I'll have what she's having, and she'll have another," the tall redhead called to the bartender before turning to grin at the blonde. "I hope you don't mind, but I needed a reason to talk to you and having a full drink gives you a reason to stay."

"And what makes you think I want to talk to you?" Elsa sneered involuntarily, her brows nearly touching her bangs.

"Because," he popped a few bar nuts into his mouth, "you look like you have some very intriguing things that you're just dying to say."

Her brows knit in confusion. This broad shouldered, leather jacket and blue jeans piece of man candy was _chatting her up._ For a minute she thought she would fall out of her seat, but her fresh beer arrived and her hand made the decision to stay by delicately bringing the tulip glass to her lips. "What's your name?"

"Names are useless. They don't tell me anything about you. I want to know your first pet, your favorite food, your deepest darkest secrets." He took a gulp of the beer and his face twisted. "First question," he eked out, "what the hell kind of beer is this?"

The blonde giggled and chewed her lip. "It's a lambic, a tad on the sweet side, I'm afraid."

He straightened up and took another swig. "This tastes like pure sugar. I'm picking the next one."

Elsa smiled and ran her fingers through her hair. Maybe it was the crushing loneliness of earlier, maybe it was the buzz of alcohol flowing through her veins, but she was rather charmed by this stranger. "Olaf."

Green eyes shot her a puzzled look. "That's an awful strange name for a girl as pretty as you."

"No," she snorted, "that was my family dog's name. He's rather old and doesn't do much now, but he's super loving and never holds a grudge. Even when I forgot him in the back yard overnight."

The man smiled and studied his beer. "Sitron was my horse. Smarter than any animal, and most humans. This gorgeous golden color, like shandy on a hot day."

"Was?"

He pursed his lips. "My father sold him when I was fifteen. One of my brothers was in a bad way financially because he's dumb as a rock, so they sold my brilliant best friend to make up for his mistakes."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." She twisted her glass in her hands. He wouldn't leave now, would he?

"Nah, it's okay. I bought him back." Her eyes shot to his, her lips hesitating on the cusp of a smile. "I got a good job, made a bunch of money, and bought him back. And told my family to fuck off, of course."

"Of course." A wide, pink lipped smile spread across her face. "Favorite food?"

Another swig of beer. "Sandwiches. I mean, think about it. Almost anything can be a sandwich. Very versatile."

"Chocolate, for me." She blushed.

"Well, duh! You're a woman, women love chocolate."

"That's not true!"

He quirked a brow. "Name one woman who doesn't like chocolate."

Elsa pondered for a moment, then lightly punched him on the arm. "Hey, hey now, don't blame me because I'm right!" he laughed.

"Next question, smart ass!" She was almost done with her beer.

He paused and stared straight at her, piercing her with a steady, warm gaze. Like he was measuring her up, testing her mettle. "I'm a poet of sorts. A bard, if you will."

"A starving artist?" she asked skeptically.

He watched for the bartender and scoffed. "Hardly; blondie, you would faint if I told you how much I make."

"Poet me something." She batted her lashes.

Rich laughter poured easily from his throat. "'Poet you something'. I'm not sure that's how it's said." But his eyes smoldered as he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine Evenings

Though we're strangers 'til now,

We're choosing the path

Between the stars.

I'll leave my love

Between the stars."

Her eyes nearly glowed with admiration; his words struck a chord deep within her. "Now, what's your deepest, darkest secret, fess up!" he teased.

She chewed the inside of her cheek a bit before downing the rest of her beer. "I've never kissed a real, true to life poet before."

His green eyes took on a new look; like the color of seaglass in the sun. "You don't say? Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything." Her royal blue eyes widened as he moved in, but closed at the last second. A calloused hand gently took hold of her jaw and his lips brushed hers, then became more insistent. The leather was cool beneath her fingertips as she placed her hands on his shoulders; sticky sweet lambic mixed with something darker; it was pleasing to her tongue as it darted past her lips and met with his. Her pulse thudded in her ears like a freight train, and continued even as he pulled away, breathless as she.

He slapped a bill down on the bar without turning from her. As he drew her to her feet, he asked, "Next question: your place or mine?"

* * *

Tangled limbs were met with the morning sun much too early, and Elsa pulled herself up reluctantly. She had to find her clothes, and Anna would be worried and was that a bruise? Goodness...

"Don't leave. You'll miss my morning of gold."

She smiled and collapsed back against his naked chest, her breasts pressed against him. "I have to, my sister is waiting. She'll be worried."

A strong hand, one that had proven its worth and skill a thousand times over in the night, trailed its way over her hip and thigh. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "When will I see you again?"

"Maybe tonight, if you're lucky." She turned her face to his and leaned in to claim his mouth, when her cell phone chirped loudly. Elsa leaped from the bed and checked the called ID: Anna. She scrambled for her clothes and started throwing them on. "Meet me at the bar?"

"I can't, I'm going to the music festival downtown." His toned body looked warm and inviting against the stark white sheets.

He watched with great enjoyment as she tugged tight jeans over her hips. "That's fine, Anna is dragging me to it anyways. I'll look for you there." She tamed her hair into an effortless braid before turning to him again. "Question: what's your name?"

He smirked. "Hans."

She smiled and climbed into the bed, giving him one last kiss. "I'm Elsa."

Faster than she anticipated, Hans captured her arms and trapped her underneath him, punishing her with a languid kiss. "Elsa," he tasted the syllables on his tongue, savoring them. "I think I'm falling for you, Elsa."

* * *

"It's too loud. And hot. And that dude over there is so white that he's hurting my eyes."

"Elsa, you're whiter than he is! Don't ruin this, please? I'm trying to telepathically connect to my future husband." Anna squinted and focused on the ginger strutting around stage with a guitar around his neck. Her slender lacquered fingers pressed on her temples in an attempt to mentally reach out.

The tall blonde sighed and grimaced. How on earth had she allowed herself to be dragged out to this people infested outdoor concert, she couldn't figure out. Everyone around her was ...sweaty. And gross. And much, much too close to her. But really, all of these bearded weirdos are the exact reason she had to accompany eighteen year old Anna. Naïve, trusting, excitable Anna, Anna who got too close to strangers. Anna, and Hans. She tried not to appear too desperate while she searched for him, but it was impossible to find him in a crowd this large. Anna's hand tightened like a vise around her upper arm and Elsa was dragged deep into the throng towards the stage.

A high pitched cheer rippled through the crowd as the lead guitarist passed off his instrument, pulled up a stool, and cracked open a plastic water bottle. Half of the water managed to make it into his mouth, the rest trickled down and soaked his fitted black tank. Green eyes surveyed the squirming crowd, and Elsa could have sworn that he smirked when his eyes landed on her. She scowled in response and prayed that she wasn't blushing because the pretty faced halfwit glanced her way. He almost looked familiar...

"Oh, OH my GOD, Elsa, he LOOKED at me! Helookedatmehelookedatme HANS LOOKED at," Anna breathed for half a second, "ME!" The teen practically jumped up and down and waved her arms towards the stage. Elsa's jaw dropped as she studied the musician closer and realized who it was. That bastard wasn't a poet, he was a singer. "Bard, he said," she muttered darkly, but she couldn't help the blush that colored her face.

A fresh guitar was passed to him and he pushed back his hair, a devilish glint in his eyes. "This next little song is an oldie, but I know you all love it. Here's 'As the World Falls Down." He grinned in her direction again. "For Elsa."


	4. Lost All Control

**AU where Anna dies. WARNING: VIOLENCE, DEATH**

This was going all sorts of wrong.

Anna was supposed to have died on that goddamn library floor, not out in the open. But that stupid girl had found her way out, and that moronic pile of snow had managed to expose his betrayal. Despite his best effort to convince them otherwise, the foreign dignitaries had taken pity on the distraught queen and too much evidence pointed his way. But as much as he hated his family, they were still royalty and if nothing else his name was good enough to get him a trial and ride home. Or so he thought.

He was supposed to be home, where at least he was safe from mortal peril. He was supposed to be on a ship, away from this hellishly happy place, where his parents would roll their eyes at his immature display and ignore him once more.

He was not supposed to be in a dank, moldy cellar who knows how far beneath the surface of the earth and Arendelle's castle. He was definitely not supposed to be chained to the wall, wearing clothes so dirty that they made his skin crawl.

His heart stuttered when the heavy iron door creaked open, but he didn't hope for much. Whoever it was, he would have to talk his way out of this as quickly as possible.

The crystal blue pump sealed his fate.

"Prince," she stepped all the way inside, closing the door behind her, "Hans." As the syllable left her lips, the room frosted from the dirt floor to every stone of the low ceiling. Queen Elsa looked rough, to be frank. Black circles marred the skin underneath her eyes, her hair was dirty and was twisted into a greasy, careless braid. Her crystalline dress still sparkled and caught every glitter of light in the dingy room, a stark contrast to her pale, dead lips and pallid skin. But her eyes were alive, hard and wide, manic even.

"Your Majesty, it's an ho-"

"Shut up. I didn't say you could speak." Her voice was strained, like it had gone unused for days and had developed a painfully acidic edge. He could taste bile in the back of his mouth. Did anyone know that he was down here? That she was down here?

Her hands rested behind her back. "You killed my sister, Hans." Her tone was steady, cold.

Hans tried to back away from her. "I didn't, you are the one who put ice in her heart."

"You left her to die!" Elsa refused to break eye contact. She was dragging something heavy behind her. "You lied to her, to me. You lied to my kingdom. You left my sister to die, you tried to kill me, and you turned my kingdom to ruin."

"Elsa, please, I didn't mean for this to turn out this way!" Cold, slippery stone met his palms.

A smile quirked her lips, a terrible grimace. "Of course. You meant to win me over, kill me, and take over my kingdom. But you didn't expect me to be so," her mouth widened, revealing stained teeth and ripping cracks in her lips, "cold." She giggled. "Well, now Hans, you have my full attention. You're the only man I can think about, dream about. And now, I have you." A dribble of blood escaped the second smile.

"P-please, your Majesty, I beg you, have mercy, I, I wasn't in my right mind." Ragged boots lost their grip on treacherous ice, and Hans hit the floor, hard.

"I suppose that makes two of us, love." She stepped closer. A thick sheet of ice snaked its way towards him. With his eyes trained on her unyielding blue gaze, he didn't even notice her right hand move. A scream he did not recognize ripped itself from his throat and he was forced to look down: a icicle the size of a riding crop was protruding from his ankle, slowly freezing his calf and foot.

"Oh, dear, did I do that? Let me fix that for you before it spreads," the queen cooed. Her left hand moved forward to reveal an ice pick, the weight seemed like it would topple her but she still managed to lift it high and slam it down into the now frozen appendage. "It seems I've missed a spot. Clumsy me." The sing-song voice terrified him almost as much as watching the ice pick sink into his iced knee. As it splintered, he vomited.

"Now, Hans, that's not very befitting a prince. You can't even feel it, well, at least that's what I theorize." She started on his other leg, the skin on her face stretched thin around her mouth as she sucked in air from the exertion. "At first, you know, I would hide away my feelings and felt that I had some modicum of control. But after you murdered my sister," slivers of ice drew blood as they ricocheted against her, "I was left with one emotion. Hatred." Jagged nails scratched at his face as she grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her. She kissed him roughly, blood mixing with vomit and tears. He whimpered. "And now, I've lost all control."

His eyes fluttered. The ice had spread to his abdomen now, and he could barely keep his eyes open. She was wiping his face, and it almost seemed like she was styling his hair.

"What..are you doing with..me?"

"I'm so glad you've asked, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles." She spoke as though they were lovers out for a stroll on a spring day. "I'm taking your head back with me up the North Mountain, and it would be a real pity if it froze solid in such a frightful manner. Anna's waiting for me there, and the more company, the merrier!" Her voice turned cold, or was it the ice creeping up to his neck? "But I would really appreciate it if you could manage to keep your eyes open. Easier to manage conversation that way."


End file.
